mamoru:Perhaps the went off to find that Hannah, and that Sancho that she'd found...

This is about the 10th time I've seen this error here. Not Hannah....

Heina:A revered and/or beautiful female, often a girlfriend, most likely from the Portuguese "reina," (HIGH-na), meaning "born in the country." In Spanish, "reina" (RAY-na), means "queen." The origin of the use of "heina" to mean "girlfriend" is most likely the Caribbean or South America (especially Brazil), where both Portuguese and Spanish influences exist.

Persnickety:Be on the lookout -- 800 pigeons used in Santeria rituals stolen from Florida breeders

So wait. There are people who actually breed pigeons?

Yup. Typically retired old farts who race them. One of my friend's dads does... .he's got a coop in the back yard and does long-distance racing. They put little tracker anklets on them and bring hem hundreds of miles away, let them go, and wait for them to find their way home.

HailRobonia:Persnickety: Be on the lookout -- 800 pigeons used in Santeria rituals stolen from Florida breeders

So wait. There are people who actually breed pigeons?

Yup. Typically retired old farts who race them. One of my friend's dads does... .he's got a coop in the back yard and does long-distance racing. They put little tracker anklets on them and bring hem hundreds of miles away, let them go, and wait for them to find their way home.

Well. I'll be damned. I learned something new today.

I wonder if it would work the other way around: Grab a bunch of old farts cooped up all day in the nursing home and drop them off a couple hundred miles away to see how long it takes them to get back. For extra difficulty, line the way back with farmer's markets and bingo parlors.

Persnickety:HailRobonia: Persnickety: Be on the lookout -- 800 pigeons used in Santeria rituals stolen from Florida breeders

So wait. There are people who actually breed pigeons?

Yup. Typically retired old farts who race them. One of my friend's dads does... .he's got a coop in the back yard and does long-distance racing. They put little tracker anklets on them and bring hem hundreds of miles away, let them go, and wait for them to find their way home.

Well. I'll be damned. I learned something new today.

I wonder if it would work the other way around: Grab a bunch of old farts cooped up all day in the nursing home and drop them off a couple hundred miles away to see how long it takes them to get back. For extra difficulty, line the way back with farmer's markets and bingo parlors.